Painting by Richard Sylbert
Heavy Clouds Above
by Lenora Rain-Lee Good
Heavy, pregnant clouds plop above the spit,
the houses, the flooding lake, like a heavily
pregnant woman, who can’t take another step
and must sit a spell to relieve her swollen
ankles, her sore feet, her aching knees and
chooses the nearest seat on which to rest–
the spit of land, the big houses, the sheds
along the shore of the lake.
The people in the houses pray today will not
be delivery day for more rain, beg for sun,
beg the clouds to wander on, tell them they are
not wanted this day, maybe tomorrow.
The fisherfolk, out on the water, are thankful
for the grey of the day–and their catch.
Fish don’t see the boats as clearly as on a
sunny day, and on rainy days they come
to the surface to catch the raindrops, thinking
they are bugs. The fisherfolk laugh and sing
as they reel in their catches, dream of dinner
that night, their wives’ happiness.
The houses on the spit plot about their next
leak, next irritant for the people. Houses
tire of being taken for granted until they are
broken in some form or another. It is not easy
to sit and do nothing, not go adventuring
like the humans who live within them.
The houses must stand, not travel, live
vicariously. But they have learned
that a twitch here, there, especially
in conjunction with wind or rain or snow
will loosen shingles, twist an external
board, bring panic and entertainment equally.
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